Without Hesitation
by The Marvel Encyclopedia
Summary: Sequel to 'But you Hesitated' - All those moments in Ray and Felicity's future that shape them into the couple they are, as Ray finds out just what happens in the Foundry at night, where Felicity acquired a bullet hole wound, who is under the mask and many more... *Read 'But you hesitated' first!*
1. Confessions on the Corner Table

**So it would be extremely helpful for you to have read the story this is the sequel to; 'But You Hesitated.' But I suppose you could kind of follow without having read it.**

**So this is the sequel, back by popular demand and I am trying to work it like the previous story where I upload all of the chapters together (or at least a few at a time) because as a fanfic reader myself, I know how horrible the wait is.**

**Anyway, please leave nice comments for me to make my day… pretty please. **

**In the last Ray/Felicity story I wrote a guest literally just wrote: 'Ugh hate Raylicity, it's just wrong.' and I'm like 'Then WTF are you doing reading a fanfic for them man?' Please guys, don't leave reviews like that.**

**Oh and – unlike its predecessor – this story shall be in first person point of view – hopefully successfully.**

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><p><span><strong><em>Confessions on the Corner Table.<em>**

_Felicity's Point of View._

I take a sip of the expensive red wine as I fiddle with my napkin, listening intently to the man sat over the candlelit table to me as he smiles profoundly at a new high-tech development in the Applied Sciences division at Queen Consolidated. It's normally something I would be interested in, demanding further knowledge of the technology and evaluating its effectiveness to myself as I smile proudly at the man I have fallen so desperately in love with.

Ray Palmer.

He pauses midsentence as he reads my expression as disinterest, opposed to the smearing dread that actually consumes me. An amused smile broadens on his perfectly chiselled face as he regards me, eyes wide in intrigue. "Sorry Felicity, am I boring you?" He teases, sipping his own glass of red wine as my eyes flit across the room.

We're the only ones in the restaurant, in fact closing time was an hour ago. But Ray, with all his resources and money, convinced the cheery Chinese owner to stay open a couple extra hours for a lump sum of cash, since Ray's meeting was running late and I had my own Arrow related issues to quickly wrap up.

"No, sorry," I reply drowsily, "I was just thinking of the first time we came here." And it's true, that was almost exactly what I was thinking about, well sort of anyway.

Ray shines a contagious smile my way and I can't help but reciprocate the action with a small, undignified laugh at my expense, "Didn't we sit at this exact table?" He asks, peering around the room from where we sit in the corner of the hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant.

I chuckle lightly, leaning forward onto the table setting, "yes, I believe we did," I reply, looking deep into his beautiful brown eyes, "and you asked me about my childhood."

"And the Arrow," he retorts, leading the conversation just where I want it. See, at least three evenings a week I have to excuse myself to head on down to the Foundry, helping the Arrow fight crime in Starling City, and Ray – despite having his suspicions since the moment we met – have never, since that very first date of ours, asked for clarification. The thing is, within moments of meeting me, he mastered the one thing Oliver Queen never could; trust in me and my judgement.

"And I told you that I would tell you everything one day, if our relationship continued to move forward," I add to his retort, innocent smile plastered across my blushing face, stretching my signature bright pink lips.

My hands move to play with the hem of my simple, white business dress as I await his response anxiously, wanting nothing more than to clarify all of his gut feelings towards my evenings away.

"So you do work for him?" Ray asks broadly, his eyes flicking to ensure we are alone, the two chefs, the owner and the hostess all hidden in the kitchen out of sight, preparing our next course as we wait.

Our eyes meet again and I see pure respect within them, and so I answer as clear as day, "Yes. Yes, I do."

He nods, following my words as they register in his mind, the loud whisper filling the silent air with unspoken words, "What sort of thing do you do for him?" He asks quietly, leaning in towards me slightly, "How long have you been working together? Is there anyone else? Who is he?"

I laugh, louder now with confidence that I wasn't about to get a lecture on working with once wanted criminals, "I mostly hack, lend a hand from behind the scenes but on occasion I've had to step out into the field," I begin to answer, racking my brain to remember his other questions in the long list he threw at me, "I started working for him when Walter Steele went missing, do you remember that?"

Ray nods in answer and I thank every deity I've heard of that he hasn't yet interrupted with more questions, like I know he's infamous for.

"Well the Arrow showed up bleeding out in the back of my mini chasing down a lead for Walter's disappearance, and I joined his crusade to help find my boss. Then I guess I got addicted, despite not liking the bodies he was dropping. So I only really considered myself a true part of the team when he tried to find a less lethal way, which I think he's done a pretty good job at so far."

"And the Canary and Arsenal, are they all part of the same team? You work with them too right?" He reiterates his previous question for me to answer, eyes full of intrigue.

I nod slowly, "They're all in the same team, and yes I work very closely to them all. In fact, I grew to be especially quite close to the first Canary, before she um… passed, and someone else took her place." I reply, wiping a small, warm tear that was budding in the corner of my right eye as I thought back to Sara Lance, a good friend before her murder. And unknown to the public, but Laurel quickly took her place as the Canary, wanting nothing more than to continue her sister's good work.

"There have been two versions of the Canary?" Ray asks, leaning over the table to swipe his thumb over my left eye to wipe away the cascading tear as I choke the rest to the wet flock back.

"Yeah, you know when I first accepted a job with you?" I ask, taking in his curt nod as an answer, "Well that was in the aftermath of her death, it took us months to find her killer and the Arrow refused to portray any emotion over the incident."

"So when you came in an quit your job at Tech Village, and you were crying waiting for the elevator…"

"…I was crying over Sa- the Canary." I stop myself before revealing her name, placing my shaking hand into one of Ray's larger one as they rest on the table. "What you said before I got in, about whatever it is getting better, it really helped me move on."

He nods sweetly with a sympathetic smile, "glad I could help."

Then I catch the hint of something in his eye and I realise the one question he's dying to know the answer to; 'who is the Arrow?' and It's the one question I can't – won't – answer.

"I can't tell you who he is," I speak softly over the table to my boyfriend of a year, squeezing his hand as I do.

He sighs solemnly, "I know," then his smile returns, big and bright and inviting all at once, and I once again have to mirror his expression, "It's not your secret to tell, but what I really want to know is if you're safe with him? On your occasional undercover missions."

And there it is; the anchor to what cannot be called a light conversation, the one thing I've been trying to avoid the past year. I stare up into his eyes, filled with nothing but concern for my well-being and I know I have to tell him the truth, even if it means I have to battle him to let me continue my work with the Arrow.

"I've had a few close calls, but he hasn't not saved me yet."

"Yet," Ray repeats, "He hasn't not saved you _yet_."

I try to hide my nerves with a smile and a joke, "What are you, my parrot?" His eyes bore into mine. Yep, that didn't work. So I try again, "I admit that it can get quite dangerous, I've been close to death a fair few times, but that comes with the territory, I'm doing my bit to save this city, just like you."

Yes, it's a low blow, and with another squeeze of his hand in mine I realise that it's not as low as I'm willing to stoop to stay as part of Team Arrow, without losing this glorious man before me.

When he speaks, its hushed and urgent, like he wants this bubbling argument to never explode, and I have to agree with him there; a fight with Ray is never pretty, I hate to see his disappointed face. But then again, the make-up sex is pretty extraordinary. "I don't my life in the hands of a murderer to do so."

"Don't pretend that your lifestyle doesn't bring any unnecessary risks to the table," I speak, just as furious in my whisper, and this is the even lower blow, "You can't tell me that there aren't people out there who would gladly murder you given half the chance for all the changes you've made in the city, in fact I've had to stop the Arrow from coming after you many of times," and then my voice drops even lower as I add to myself, "for a slightly different reason however."

"What?" Ray questions, his hushed voice gone as I realise he heard what I said, "What different reasons?"

Remember that whole telling the truth business? I'm considering revoking that promise, "What do you mean?" I feign innocence, "What different reasons?"

"You said the Arrow wants to come after me, but for different reasons than for the work I've been doing that some people would describe as unethical as I thrive in building Star City up from the ashes of Starling. So what different reason would that be?" He asks, his voice kind and forgiving on the outside, but I can hear the edge of annoyance at my inability to respond.

So I guess that honesty business is bad on, so I mumble the following confession, "the Arrow kind of, maybe has a little bit of a thing for me, like a like like thing, which used to go both ways but no longer does, because now I like like you, well not like like really, because I love you but you already knew that, so I'm going to stop talking in three… two… one…" And only then do I breathe.

Ray chuckles slightly at my babbling like he usually does, before taking a more relaxed tone to continue, "So that's Oliver Queen, the Arrow and the mail man for our office building that like like you," he mocks cutely, "any other admirers I should know about?"

"Only you," I reply teasingly, before turning to serious as I add, "at least I hope you still like like me after finding out about my Team Arrow work."

"Felicity," he sighs, raising our joined hands to kiss my exposed knuckles lightly, "you could be the Arrow yourself and I'd still have to be dragged away from you. This changes nothing except that I'll be three times as worried now when you cancel a date under mysterious circumstances."

"I love you," I whisper.

He smiles warmly once more, "Move in with me."

"What?" I question, taken aback from his abrupt comment, "I was actually expecting 'I love you too' not that precise sentence." I mumble back to him, biting my lip nervously as I consider the thought of living with Ray Fricking Palmer.

He chuckles lightly, "I love you too, Felicity. And when you want to move into my apartment with me, or I don't know move into yours or get a new place… whatever. The offer's there."

I take a sip of my wine before placing it back down onto the table, letting go of Ray's hand so the hostess can place our meals on the table before us, smiling. When she leaves and Ray begins to dip into his meal, chopsticks in hand, I sit there still, not looking at the food before me but intently at my boyfriend.

When he looks up and sees the change in me he stops eating, "I didn't mean to frighten you, I just wanted you to know where I am. It's fine if you're not there yet Felicity," and still when I don't move he asks, "Aren't you going to eat?"

"Yes." I answer him, still not moving.

He laughs when he sees that I'm not making a move to eat, putting down his chopsticks and wiping his mouth on his napkin, "Okay then… do you know how?" He teases lightly, and I can see the uncertainty in his eyes as he questions what I'm doing.

"I wasn't talking about the food," I say slowly without hesitation, "Yes, I'll move in with you."


	2. Christening Surfaces and Bullet Holes

**_Christening Surfaces with Bullet Holes._**

_Felicity's Point of View._

Carrying the final brown cardboard box filled with my stuff into Ray's penthouse apartment, I flop down exhausted onto the couch. The dreaded thought of unpacking said boxes rattling around in my brain, ricocheting off of my sore skull, as Ray collapsed down on the white fabric seat next to me with a weary sigh.

"So I think this calls for a take out on the carpet in the home office so we don't have to see the boxes, deal?" Ray bargains, looking up at the ceiling as I twist my body to face him.

"Or," I begin, biting my lower lip playfully, "We could build a box fort in the home office and eat in it before having wild hot sex on every available surface of _our_ apartment."

That gets his attention. "Really?" He asks and if I know Ray like I think I do, I know where he's heading with his surprise, "We can build a box fort?" I hate to admit that I was right, but well… I was right.

I giggle and swat his arm playfully, leaning in to kiss his soft lips quickly, but he pulls me to him, enclosing me in his embrace. I move to straddle him, opening my mouth for his tongue to access. His hands come to the top of my jean covered thighs, grasping them and pulling me closer into him, chest to chest, lips to lips, my sex hovering over his erection.

I moan into his mouth as his hands move to squeeze my ass, my own fingers lacing into the hair on his neck, pulling at it as his mouth moves to give attention to the flesh of my neck exposed by the black vest top I'm wearing.

The next thing I know is Ray chucking my glasses onto the glass coffee table to the side of the couch, and his hands are in my hair, pulling my long blonde tresses to the side away from his mouth as he nips my collarbone, making my groan and push down into his erection, getting harder by the second as he moans into my neck.

I use my hands latched into his hair to pull his face away from my neck, looking him dead in the eyes as I speak hoarsely, "Or we could just skip to the sex on every surface, starting here."

And that's what we do, he finger fucks me on the couch. I give him a hand job on the dining table. We christen the kitchen counter with him eating me out. I then blow him against the floor to ceiling glass window looking out across Starling City.

And then we're spent and exhausted more than before, curled up on the couch where we started, naked. He's fingering the scar on my shoulder like he so often does and I can sense the concern in his touch. If there was anything he wanted to know more than my involvement with the Arrow, it was where I got this bullet hole from, and well I guess they're both related anyway.

"The Clock King did that," I tell him, as if the words meant nothing. "He set a virus up on my computers in the Arrow's hideout and they fried, but we needed to catch him. So I set up shop where it turns out he was, the Arrow and the Canary came along when they tracked me down, this was long before Arsenal joined the task force, and you know that Digg is on the team too, well he was there as well," Once the words start to flow, I can't stop them and soon I'm continuing, "I took the bullet for the Canary, it would've killed her for sure, but I jumped out and tackled her to the floor, got that bad boy on my shoulder."

"Why haven't you told me that before?" He asks confused, "I thought you might've accidently shot yourself, that's why you were ashamed of it."

I can't help but smile at Ray's expectation, turning to peck his lips that his humour stopped the tears about to fall, "I'm not ashamed, in fact it's the bravest thing I've ever done, I'm pretty damn proud actually. But it was the original Canary that I took the bullet for, the good friend that… died."

He nods, understanding why I haven't told him sooner, and then I'm back on his lap, straddling his waist as he stands and my legs automatically wrap tight and bare around his torso. "Come on," he says slowly with a coy smile, "I want to christen my home office desk before we order take out."

And then he runs into the large room, with floor to ceiling glass windows on the far side and a wall lined with books next to it. The other two walls are covered in a mahogany wood, matching the desk backing into the window. Make that two desks, one next to the other, with the glass framing them. One desk is covered in papers, the other has three wide computer screens, similar to the layout I have in the foundry.

I hop down from his waist, conscious that I'm naked and still I walk over to the new, technology filled desk that wasn't there yesterday when I slept over. "That one's yours," Ray calls over to me, gloriously naked as he takes me in, staring intently at the desk.

"You shouldn't have," I call back to him.

"I couldn't not," he replied, a smirk appearing on his beautiful face, "Want to christen it?"

I return his smirk, folding my arms over my bare breasts and crossing one leg over the other to shield my sex from him. "Come over here and find out."

He strides over, gripping my hips as he gets close enough, my arms go around the back of his neck and he backs us to my new home desk. I feel my back press into the computer screen as Ray's lips crash against mine and for a moment, I don't care. And then I see a flash of the tech on that desk beneath my eyelids as I pull away from him.

"And here I thought you were just teasing when you asked me to come and find out," he says, taking a step back but keeping his hands on my hips, "I didn't actually think you were indecisive about it."

I smile at him, my signature shade of pink smeared not only on his own lips, but on his neck, down his chest and there's even a hint of it on his shaft, I inwardly praise my good work, my colour marking his body mine. "I think that since in the last hour we've had four orgasms between us, it's pretty obvious there's no indecision on either of our parts. But as much as I love you, and as much as I crave you inside me right now, the tech comes first. I will not put them in harm's way for a good fuck. So if we're going to do this, it's on your table baby." I say bluntly, registering the shock on Ray's face at my frankness towards sex, the cursing and the cheesy endearment, in fact, I'm a little shocked at myself too, there's just something about being naked that makes me feel so alive, and gives me a sense of candour apparently.

And before I've even taken another breath, there's the sound of papers falling to the carpeted floor, scattering all over the place and Ray's hands are on my hips again, hoisting me up and placing me bare-assed on the wood of his desk, legs parted towards the desk chair he now occupies.

A coy smile creeps onto his face as he grips my kneecaps, prying my legs further apart as he simultaneously pulls me to the edge of the desk, I put my hands out behind me for support, throwing my head back in what's to come, placing my legs on Ray's shoulders as I know he wants me to.

For the second time today, Ray's tongue licks the length of my slit, stopping then to take his time circling my clit, flicking it with the warmth of the tip of his tongue before he takes my left wrist in his hand, forcing my thumb to continue with the administrations for him as he plunges his tongue back into my sex.

Tongue inside me, curling to hit every spot he knows I love, he vibrates his lips against my sex, the sensation tunnelling up by core and tingling my spine, causing me to scream out undignified versions of Ray's name.

My own hand still adds to the stimulation, the thought that I'm adding to this making the action so much more as Ray brings a finger to slot in behind his pumping tongue, his digit pumping in as his tongue comes out, making my toes curl. And then I feel the heat coiling deep down, and I'm surprised I've lasted this long.

But then the only sensation I feel is that of my hand on my clit until Ray pulls my had away, the loss of all administrations causing me to whimper out for Ray, begging him to let me come. He only watches me as I come back to Earth from my almost high.

And then he's in me, filling me completely. Not bothering with a condom as he knows all too well that I'm on birth control. Skin hits skin as he pumps in and out, my legs now around his hips, my feet on his ass urging him on as he thrusts me into him with his leverage on my waist, me meeting him thrust for thrust and we pound together perfectly.

And then the coil in my stomach tightens again as I near orgasm, latching my hands to Ray's shoulders so my nails can bite into his flesh as my teeth move to bite into his neck, urging him closer to orgasm.

But I can't hold on any more, and I scream his name as I come hard and fast around him, panting in ecstasy that is only topped when I feel Ray release his juices into me as his face hits my neck with a grunt and he moans my name.

We stay like that for a minute, until the sound of the doorbell ringing shrills through the perfection of this moment with the man I love completely, with all that I am.

Ray jumps out of me, both of us hopping to the door as we stick our clothes back on that were discarded around the apartment. The bell rings again and we hurry up, me forgetting to put on my panties as I run my jeans up my legs. When I turn to open the door, I then realise that although I'm fine not wearing any, they are still somewhere in the room.

That's when I catch Ray sticking the yellow boyshorts into his jeans pocket with a wink.

"For your collection?" I ask, referring to the other panties of mine that he's taken without permission.

"I think that makes eleven now, and six bras." He says, returning the wink as the doorbell sounds for a third time and I swing it open. Coming face to face with a beaming John Diggle, stood next to his beautiful new wife and their stunning one year old daughter Sara. Digg holding up a bottle of red to show the pair.

"Congrats on the move," he says cheerily as I move out of the way to let them in, picking up my goddaughter in the process and balancing her on my hip with a smile in my boyfriend's direction.

And what I'm feeling; it's called contentment Happiness. Love.


	3. An Intruder at Midnight

**_An Intruder at Midnight._**

_Ray's Point of View._

I'm digging into my dinner when it happens, the meal that my beautiful girlfriend has slaved over for all of twenty seconds while she microwaved it. I can't say I blame her, she's a busy woman, she shouldn't be expected to put food on the table in a literal sense. I tried to talk her into a maid and/or cook when she moved in, but along with being beautiful, busy and a terrible cook (there I said it!) she is also the most challengingly suborn woman – or man for that matter – that I've ever met.

And I love her – and lust over her – for it.

I'm two forkfuls in when the fire escape clatters on the outside of the window to our penthouse suite. An usual find at any time, never mind when its pitch black out, because yes dinner did get side-lined as I chose to eat Felicity instead. So we just re-microwaved the dish two hours later when we had finished many tremendous rounds.

I'm hardly the most experienced on men, though I suppose I'm hardly inexperienced either, but I know for a fact that Felicity Megan Smoak gives the best damn blow job this side of – well, anywhere actually. She's just that damn good.

Sorry, did that just lower the tone a bit? I may be a respectful, smart businessman, but I'm still a man. And men think of this sort of thing, however nice they are – sorry to burst your bubble ladies.

"Did you hear that?" I ask the stunning blonde before me, pulling my eyes from her glasses hidden ones to the floor to ceiling window, that for some stupid reason, actually opens. The perfect spot for suicide don't you think. The only thing that stops you from dropping straight down a sixty story drop, is the strategically placed blue fire escape below.

"Yeah I did this time, actually." She replies, and in case you picked up on that _'this time'_ dig, that would be because I'm a very paranoid bloke. You would be to if you were in my line of work, making enemies left, right and centre, not to mention the fact that the gorgeous woman I live with happened to work very closely to the most vastly wanted man in the world, also known as the Arrow, or – well I would tell you his real name, except that I don't know it. And I guess that's fine, it's not Felicity's secret to tell, yet it's like one of those itches you can't scratch. I feel like the answers been right in front of me all along.

"I'll check it out," I tell Felicity as I stand from the dining table, heading over to the window and peering down into the dark, seeing nothing.

Then a light from the building opposite ours turns on and cascades down the fire escape slightly, the hint of something green catching the light. Scratch that, green things – arrows. Then a face looks up to meet mine, causing me to jump back as I hear Felicity run up barefoot behind me, putting her hand on my shoulder before we both peer out to see the masked vigilante climbing up our fire escape.

_What am I thinking about right now?_ You ask. And I will tell you; _Shit!_

Then I hear Felicity gasp, the words "Oh my!" sounding as she intakes too much air, kneeling to the floor to open the giant window, It swings open and she holds out her hand to help the masked man into our apartment.

And what do I do? I stand there, like a – what's the word? – Oh yeah, Lemon.

The Arrow crawls into the room, leaving a trail of blood in his wake as he does, grunting every time Felicity pulls him further into the apartment. Then she closes the window tight.

"Can you get onto the table?" She asks him, running to move the plates from it as he grunts a 'yes' and crawls towards the wooden table we were just eating on. And me, I'm still stood there.

"Ray!" Felicity calls me back to Earth, "Can you get the first aid kit from the bathroom please?"

And as I run towards the bathroom I hear a deep, disguised voice say "I couldn't make it back to the Foundry." And I ignore it, grasping the massive first aid kit Felicity rightly demanded we keep in full supply with her clumsy traits, and then I sprint back to the bleeding criminal on the dining room table.

I don't know what urges me forward, this man is a criminal, a murderer and I know that. And although I appreciate that his efforts has indeed brought the crime rate in Starling City down by a considerable amount, you've got to give Captain Lance and his work force a little credit for that too. Maybe it's knowing how much Felicity believes in him, understanding that she cares whether he lives or dies. I don't know what makes me run that little bit faster, but that damn vigilante better appreciate it.

When I walk back in, I freeze. Felicity's fluttering over a bare chested man, blood running everywhere as she presses a dishcloth to a spot on his lower abdomen. When I near, I realise that not only is he hoodless, but his mask is discarded to. And I don't look at him at first; instead I watch Felicity as she stops watching the man in front of her and turns to me, pleading me to stay calm as I find out who the vigilante is.

That unnerves me more than anything.

I draw nearer, handing Felicity the large white box of medical supplies, moving around the table to face the vigilante and the sight I see shocks me to the very core.

Oliver Fucking Queen.

And I'm not shocked, I'm not surprised at all. In fact, everything makes sense now, everything becomes a little clearer. I begin to understand everything.

And then I spring into action.

"We've ran out of rubbing alcohol," she says with a grunt, pouring nothing out of the bottle.

"Vodka," I state swiftly, earning confusion from Felicity, "we have some vodka right? Use that."

You can't get a PhD in Physics without some knowledge in Chemistry and Biology guys, remember that. Felicity gets the vodka, pouring a hefty quantity on the large wound in Oliver's side, earning a teeth-clenching moan from him as his hands hold onto the side of the table, and I notice his knuckles going white. "The Herb," I hear him whimper, "from Lian Yu." Now I don't know what the guy is talking about, but it seems that Felicity does as she turns to me.

"Call Digg, tell him to get here ASAP, and to bring Oliver's stash of Island herbs, he'll know what you mean."

And that's what I do, and Digg comes not ten minutes later with not only some miracle herb, but the stuff for a blood transfusion – including the blood. And I stand to the side and watch them work, Felicity's beautifully delicate hands smeared with Oliver Queen's blood as he gets patched up on our dining room table.

Remind me to buy a new one of those.

It's a good hour later when he's in the clear. I've retired to the home office, looking out of the window across at the city, my city, the one I've worked so hard to rebuild. The one the Arrow – Oliver Queen – has worked so hard to make safer. And I realise that maybe we're not so different after all. And that thought scares me.

No, I'm not like him. We want the same thing sure, for Starling City to be a better and brighter place. And I may have lied and schemed my way to the top when needs be, but I've never killed, never committed cold blooded murder, nor have I ever put Felicity so blatantly in harm's way.

I have no right to stop Felicity from working with him, I know her well enough to figure that would end badly for me, and I wouldn't want to control her like that. Stopping Felicity from helping the Arrow would be asking her to stop being the strong, independent woman I fell in love with, and I won't do it – I can't do it.

But I can't be a part of it.

Of this world of vigilantes.

Sure, Oliver's secret is safe with me, and jealousy was never something I was passionate about and I trust Felicity enough to let her gallivant off some evenings with her ex to save the city, because she always comes back to me. But I don't want to know the ins and outs, how he became so fearless and strong and whatever else is none of my business.

But Felicity is, and the moment she gets too close to death, the minute she stops thinking straight, I will do everything in my power to keep her away from Queen. And I'm a very resourceful man.

I'll stay up in my office, helping people in the way I know how. With technology, and medicine, and knowledge.

And as I stand, looking out to the city, I know that this changes nothing.

So Oliver Queen is the Arrow, Felicity works with him when she can, he's an ex-murder vigilante that is currently not wanted by the police. Who cares?

Just an average day in the life of Ray Palmer.

Yeah, my life is _that _weird.


	4. The Concrete Box in My Heart

**Thank you to 'Sheena Is A Punk Rocker' for all of your reviews. And I have only just realised that 'bloke' was a very English word to use (and I am English) when I'm writing as an American and I feel very stupid about that. And I love you for being straight with me in a nice way, I woke up to all of your many reviews this morning and I can tell you now that they have made my day. I'm a smiley Englishwoman today :D**

**Onwards and upwards I suppose. Sorry if this sucks, and it'll probably be a bit shorter than you're used to.**

**_The Concrete Box in My Heart._**

_Felicity's Point of View._

It's dark and dank, I can barely see my own hand as I hold it up before me, smeared with my own blood. It's dripping red, more of the same oozing liquid running from the split in my side. I run the hand through my sweaty hair, a tangled mess at the back of my neck. I try to scream but the words lodge in my throat and all that comes out is a strangled croak.

I try to calm myself down, hot wet tears falling freely down my cheek as I try to take in the space around me. I'm surrounded by concrete, the cold floor, the four walls all in arms reach, the ceiling just above my huddled form, all concrete and all enclosing me in completely.

And no one is going to save me.

And I'm going to die in here.

And I'm scared.

Ray will be worried about me, I'm sure of it. He'd never leave me to rot, he'll be doing everything he can to find me, right? He wouldn't leave me, would he? I don't think so. But didn't I once think my father would never leave? The faceless brunette I see when I close my eyes, my estranged father that was put on this world to protect me, to walk me down the aisle one day, gone like my chances of survival in this box.

Ray _will_ find me.

Ray _won't_ leave me.

But I'm not convinced.

And that's the thought I have as I scream bloody murder. And I find myself tangled in sweaty sheets with sunlight streaming heavily on my tearstained face. _It was just a dream _I tell myself as I regain my ability to breathe, _just breathe and it will all go away._

Before my heart fully settles down from the horrific nightmare, Ray hands appear at my shoulders, rubbing comfortingly in an effort to calm me down. _He's here, just like he always is._

"Nightmare?" He asks softly, pulling me into his bare chest as I begin to sob. I bury my hot face in his neck, seeking the comfort his arms wrapped around me brings as I break down in his embrace. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asks, meaning to help, but I shake my head on his shoulder.

I haven't had a nightmare since the night I sent my application off to MIT, where everyone I knew laughed at me when I got the rejection letter that never really came, saying MIT didn't want me, just like my father.

So this one off nightmare on this cold October night, six months since Oliver Queen lay bleeding out on the now discarded of dining table, that has in fact been replaced with an identical one, well the nightmare takes me by surprise to say the least.

Ray holds me as I sob into him, shaking in his embrace and he doesn't speak again for a while, until I've calmed down and pulled away from him, wiping my eyes with the back of my hands, "Sorry."

"Don't be," He tells me, nudging my hands out of the way and using his thumbs to wipe away the remaining tears softer than I had been, "I didn't know that you had nightmares?"

"I don't," I whisper, "this was a one off, it's been years."

He nods his head slightly as I speak, registering my words as he stared intensely into my puffy red eyes, "it helps to talk about it you know."

I think for a moment, weighing up my options. I could tell him everything, how my father leaving me has left a gaping insecurity that I'm not good enough to stick around for, or I could brush it off, tell him I dreamt about a hamster being bullied at little hamster school or something else totally wacky.

Then I look into his eyes, filled with nothing but love and concern for me. And the dream seems insignificant, like a… I don't know what like, because it's that unimportant. And then I don't feel insecure. I don't feel like he'll leave me, because I know he never will.

"I just…" I begin, as tears fall once more, but this time for a different reason, "I just really love you Ray, that's all."

He shushes me and brings me back into his arms, kissing the top of my head in the way he always does when I get upset, and then I hear him whisper to me, "I love you too Felicity, more than you'll ever know."

And we stay like that for a while, until the beaming sun streaming through the curtains begins to burn my back and Ray removes me from his embrace.

"I want to ask you something," he says quietly, unsure, "I was going to wait until tonight but I don't think I can wait any longer than I already have."

I nod and move from his lap so he can jump out of bed, filling me with immediate loss of warmth. He kneels on the floor to the side of the bed, fiddling in the bottom draw of his bedside table as I watch him, a nervous but overjoyed smile distorting his beautiful face.

And then he finds what he's looking for, hiding it behind him so I cannot see and he stays on the floor. I shift myself so I'm kneeling on the side of the bed, stabilising myself with my hands on the edge so I can peer over at him.

And then he's on one knee.

Then he pulls out a tiny blue box from behind him.

Then he opens it up.

Inside is a beautifully simple diamond ring, fairly large in size with a smaller diamonds either side of the showstopper. It's beautiful in a not too flashy way, and I couldn't have chosen it better myself.

"Felicity Megan Smoak," Ray begins slowly, small tears forming in both of our eyes, his falling flat onto his plaid pyjama bottoms and I wipe mine away with the oversized t-shirt that matches his bottoms.

He doesn't continue for a moment, and I can his mind working overtime for the words he wants to say, and I wish he wouldn't say any, I don't need to hear them. All I need is that ring on my finger entwining the two of us together.

And then his tearstained voice begins to choke up words;

"I never really understood why poets have been in business for so long, in fact I always wondered just how many love poems there could actually be, did you know that a new one is written every minute? Well, I always thought it was silly, I never really was much of a poet either, as you know I haven't got a creative writing bone in my body. But every morning when I wake up next to you, and every night when you fall asleep in my arms, I want to write a thousand poorly written poems for you, to let you know exactly how I feel about you, and how I want to fall asleep and wake up next to you for every single day of my life.

"And I did try to write a poem, I got two lines in and realised that there was no way I would find a good rhyme for glasses and gave up. So I brought you this ring instead, because that was much easier and I think it should be a little bit more effective.

"So, Felicity Megan Smoak, I'm going to shut up about poems now and ask will you marry me?"

And my tears are falling freely now, sobbing into my hand as I nod, not trusting any words to form correctly in the back of my throat. The next thing I feel is my hand being pried away from my face, and a beautiful ring being slid onto my finger, I hear Ray laugh through his tears and reply the same way, staring at my hand until it's a sore sight and I turn my attention to Ray.

Then somehow, unexpectedly I find the words I was looking for, and I whisper "Felicity Megan Palmer" into the sunlit room.


	5. Stiletto Heals on Broken Glass

**I know that Ray Palmer (The Atom) in the comics doesn't have the same backstory as the Ray Palmer I'm writing as in this fanfiction and I apologise for that. It just works better for my storyline this way and I do apologise, I wouldn't usually not stick with the comic book background story but this is a one-off.**

**Smut coming soon, sorry but this one's a fluffy one.**

**!THE WEDDING!**

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><p><span><strong><em>Stiletto Heals on Broken Glass.<em>**

_Ray's Point of View._

I arrive at the venue early.

The ballroom is filled with beautiful white lilies and pale pink roses, the chairs leading down the pastel pink aisle are white wood, with ivory bows tied at the back of each seat. At the bottom of the aisle is a pink archway, the same light shade as the aisle and is laced with white roses and other snow coloured flowers that weave between the wooden arch with green stems.

It looks like the attack of the flowers, perfect for a spring wedding I suppose.

Yeah that's what I said; wedding. Because today is the glorious day that I marry the love of my life, the centre of my universe, the Juliet to my Romeo – too much? Well, you get the picture.

The one and only Felicity Smoak, or soon to be Felicity Palmer.

I told her she didn't need to change her name, I figured she'd be one of those girls who could never belong to a man like that. Felicity just screams an air of female independence and so when she said her name, her new name when I proposed, I was shocked. And overwhelmed with happiness.

A few guests are already here, Felicity's excitable mother being one of them. In fact I can hear her cackle from where I stand at the top of the aisle, and she's all the way in a room upstairs helping my beautiful blushing bride into a brand new white dress.

We're having a bit of a mismatched ceremony, combining some Jewish traditions into the run of the mill, say your vows and be done with it in the loveliest way possible approach to the wedding that I had favoured. But to be honest, I would've converted to Judaism if Felicity had required me to.

Roy Harper, my best man since I have become very fond of the kid in my years with Felicity, comes up behind me, holding in his hand a pink coloured rose buttonhole for me to wear, a contrast to his and the other groomsmen's white ones.

He passes it to me and I put it on, smoothing down my fitted black suit, white shirt and thick black tie, hidden at the bottom under a light grey and pastel pink waistcoat.

In case you hadn't guessed, Felicity picked the colour theme.

Not that I mind of course, she could paint the whole room in the most god-awful shade of brown and show up wearing a black bag for all I care, as long as she says the words "I do."

Its half an hour later by the time everyone is seated on white chairs, waiting patiently for my bride to walk down the aisle. I can admit that I'm nervous now, palms sweating, jelly legs, heart in my mouth nervous as I wait, vaguely feeling Roy's hand clamp down on my shoulder in reassurance before sneaking out of the ballroom.

And then I hear the traditional wedding march sound, and I turn towards the entrance, breathing heavily.

First down is my niece and nephew, five year old twins. They carry a ring each like it's the Olympic torch, concentration etched on their faces as they take a step at a time from the three at the entrance that lead to the aisle. When they get to the bottom, the move to the left, sitting with my family on the spare chairs left out for them.

Then walks down Sara, Felicity's goddaughter who is carrying a basket of white rose petals, and she's spreading them so generously at the top of the aisle that by the time she's at the bottom with me, she's ran out. When she gets to the end of the aisle, she moves to sit with Oliver Queen who sits with Felicity's mother on the front row next to Barry Allen and his date Isis.

Lyla Michaels is next down the aisle, as Felicity's maid of honour and only bridesmaid, and hooks her arm on that of Roy Harper, my only groomsman. They walk down in complete sync, like the pair of trained killers that they are, the only difference being one works with the law, and the other behind it. Well, that's if you consider Amanda Waller's work legal, but that's a debate for another time.

They make it to the bottom of the aisle and both give me an encouraging nod and smile, Roy moving to stand beside me and Lyla to stand to the other side of the archway. And then the sound of the wedding march starts again, and the white doors swing open once more.

And then there she is, a vision in perfect white on the arm of John Diggle, dressed dapperly in the same suit as Roy.

As a guy, I don't think I can explain her dress in a way that does it justice, but I'll give it a go.

It's white. Or Ivory? Maybe a hint of cream?

The dress comes down to her knees but the petticoat beneath it frills out at the bottom in a thousand layers. It's what I think you class as a sweetheart neckline and I'm later to find out it's got a corset lace up back, and fits perfectly around her form before the skirt puffs out at her waist. But atop of the top is white lace, a floral pattern on it that goes down to a full length sleeve but sits comfortably off of her shoulders, revealing the skin there – not that the lace actually covers the flesh of her arms.

And she looks like an angel, a perfect vision of a beautiful woman. And I thank I God I don't believe in for bringing her to me.

Maybe I should start to believe in this fate business, because I'm sure as hell that this amazing woman wasn't just coincidentally made absolutely perfectly for me.

She makes her decent down the three small steps of pink and coated in white petals, and I'm not sure how it happens, maybe her simple white heals are just too high, but she trips down the final step, the only thing stopping her from falling on her beautiful ass being her arm in Digg's.

The arm not linked with Digg's comes to her face in embarrassment and I see her stifle a laugh at her own expense, the bouquet of white and pink covering her lightly made up face and bright pink lipstick.

Only when he's halfway down the aisle does she remove the bouquet from her face, a wide smile on her face that I have to reciprocate lovingly, the blush on her cheeks a beautiful and heart-warming sight.

Only then do I notice her hair beneath the veil that falls to the back of her head, not covering her beautiful face like they usually do, and I'm glad to see that. Her blonde tresses are down and curl at the bottom together in one perfect lock, cascading down from her scalp in a waterfall of gold, - good God that sounded cheesy, but it is true.

The veil is sheer white, clipped in somewhere at the top of her head and falling down her back, stopping where the skirt begins and framing her all the better in a glowing white.

When she reaches me, Digg takes her hand from out of his arm and kisses her knuckles, then places her hand in my extended one with a wink in her direction. I mimic his actions and kiss her hand as she climbs the one step up to me and meets my eyes with hers.

"You look beautiful," I mouth to her from across the alter, winking.

She smiles, "Thank you," she replies with a blush, and I find it hard that still after all these years, she still can't take a complement in her stride, as her gaze drops to the floor, then she jerks her head in the direction of the entrance, "I can't believe I did that."

"I can," I mouth back, squeezing her hand.

Then the old man stood between us clears his throat and begins, "dearly beloved…"

And by the time my lips lock with Felicity's and she breaks a glass with her stiletto heal, the crowd erupts into cheers and Felicity is now officially my wife.

And me? Well I'm the happiest man on Earth.


	6. Good Omens and Jinxing it

**!THE WEDDING PART TWO!**

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><p><span><strong><em>Good Omens and Jinxing it.<em>**

_Felicity's Point of View._

My mother is a scary woman. Not in the threatening and demeaning way, but in a here there and everywhere state of being. And that is exactly what she is doing right this second; flitting.

One minute her hand is in my hair, fixing the curl, the next she smoothing down my dress. But right now, she's hitching a pale pink garter up my thigh, something that feels far too intimate for my mother's personality. But I ignore it, for I'm far too nervous to care.

"You're going to be fine," I hear Digg say as he tries to ignore my exposed thigh and my mother's head up my petticoat, "I fear that Ray is far too smitten with you to not show up."

I nod in his direction for his reassurance, and it's not Ray I'm worried about. I'm scared to death that I'll embarrass myself somehow.

The door opens and Lyla walks in, dresses in a simple, pale pink evening gown, a scoop neck and a slit up the side, and a warm smile on her face, "God Felicity, you look amazing, Ray's going to have a heart attack when he sees you."

She moves in to hug me but my mother steps in front of her, holding up wrinkled hands before Lyla, "do not ruin my masterpiece," she warns, with a look that makes even Lyla Michaels herself take a step back and blow a kiss instead.

My smile widens, "Thanks Lyla."

"Felly," I hear a small voice call me, "Felly!" And I turn around, my dress floating with me as I take in the sight before me. Sara Diggle, the beautiful little toddler in a pink and white dress and a flower in her dark hair, smiling widely at me as she stumbles forwards, barely stable on her feet.

"Hi Sara," I say kneeling down to her, "Have you got your basket of petals?"

She holds up the white basket filled with petals to my face, smiling even wider than before, "Yup Felly."

Then Lyla has her in her arms, fixing her hair and taking her to the side and leaving me to struggle to breathe.

It's another five minutes until someone else comes in, this time it being Oliver Queen and Laurel Lance, and before you ask – No, they're not 'together.'

"Wow, Felicity," Oliver says slowly, "You look… amazing. Ray Palmer is one lucky man."

And you'd think it'd be awkward, I – let's be frank – lusted after this man for two years, we also went on a failed date and he told me he loved me. But it's not, in fact its comfortable and easy, like talking to an old friend. Which I guess in a way, we are.

"Thanks Oliver," I reply easily.

Laurel speaks up next, and despite spending a lot of time with her since she joined Team Arrow, you shouldn't assume we're friends. We just have too little in common and she reminds me so much of Sara, not to mention that when she did join I saw her as a threat for Oliver's attention. "Nervous?" she asks, almost as if we were close.

"For marrying Ray? No," I answer before adding, "For walking down the aisle? Very much so."

"What's the worst that can happen?" She retorts, "You could trip down the stairs I suppose, but what's the chance of that happening."

I laugh slightly, and she joins in slowly, "I think you may have just jinxed it."

And then both she and Oliver are gone.

And before I know it, Roy shows up, looking amazing in a fitted black suit, light pink tie against his white shirt and a plain light grey waistcoat with his white rose buttonhole. "It's time babe," he tells me as I bite on my bright pink lower lip, "you ready?"

And I surprise myself, for I rarely swear, and I've never said anything rude – except for my few Freudian slips – in front of Sara, but my answer is, "Let's do this shit."

And not five minutes later, I'm stood behind closed white doors after hiding to the side so Ray's niece and nephew, followed by Sara, then Roy and Lyla could walk down the aisle.

I grip Digg's arm tightly for support and take a deep breath, "You okay?" He asks as my nails bite down into his firmly muscled arm.

"You know me Digg," I begin to answer, "I don't like to be centre of attention."

"Well you deserve to be Felicity," he tells me in a reassuring fatherly way, "and you look positively breath-taking."

I whisper a thanks and the music loops round, my arm tightens even more on Digg if that were even possible and he leans into me as black suited men move to the door handles, "I think that's our queue."

"Don't let me fall, Digg."

He nods and the doors open, revealing the largest crowd of people sat watching me that I've ever come across, and for a minute I don't think I can do it.

Then I see him.

Ray Palmer.

My soon-to-be husband.

Then everything becomes clear. The crowd isn't important, them staring at me doesn't matter. I'm walking down this aisle to marry the man I love, the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. And that's what truly matters.

I walk down the first step. I see my mother crying in the arms of her newest toyboy.

Second step down, Sara waves at me from the end of the aisle, then I see Lyla point in the direction of Ray and give a thumbs up. Yeah, he looks good.

Third step, final step, then it's a clear run down the pale pink aisle. I don't know what happens, too many petals? Too high of heal? Nerves? I don't know, but what I do know is that I'm falling, tripping whatever you want to call it, it's happening, right now, on my fricking wedding day, in front of all my family and Ray's.

Thank the heavens for John Diggle and his strong arms that keep me from going face first to the floor. I soon find my balance again and feel my cheeks burning, hiding myself in my bouquet.

But that stumble is not important, Ray is, our marriage is. So I pull my face out of the sweet smelling flowers and watch him intensely the rest of the way down.

And I make it.

That's an omen right? That we'll make it?


	7. Ripped Shirt Buttons on White Carpet

**If you're here for fluff – sorry, this is far from it.**

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><p><span><strong><em>Ripped Shirt Buttons on White Carpet.<em>**

_Felicity's Point of View._

It's dark when we get to our hotel room for the night, a one night stay before we fly off to god knows where in the morning for a two week long honeymoon.

The room is large and white, and that's about all I can say about it. A large square room with room service and an adjoining bathroom, with white walls, white sheets on the bed, and white furniture, not to mention the floor length white curtains that lead out to the balcony of the thirtieth floor room we occupy. Ray had proposed we rent the penthouse suite, with its own kitchen and study, but after explaining that we might as well just go home if we did that, he agreed on something smaller.

I've now officially been Felicity Megan Palmer for all of eight hours, and I've been called Mrs Palmer about three hundred times, one hundred of which were by Ray, and the sound still hasn't gotten old, though it hasn't quite sunk in yet.

I shed myself out of my dress as soon as we enter the room, Ray heading to the bathroom to freshen up from the millions of dances he had to endure this evening, most of which were with my nana, but he danced every one with her without a single moan, and still came out just as charming as before.

When he exits, he's shed his suit jacket, waistcoat and tie, his shirt is untucked and the top three buttons are undone, his feet are bare and the suit pants he wears hang low on his hips.

As for me, well I'm in my underwear.

My silky smooth legs are bare except for the sky high heels that tripped me up on the aisle (I've come to the conclusion it was their fault as I almost fell once more on the first dance) and the garter on the top of my thigh. Then there's the white corset lingerie I've been clipped into all day, it's all in one so as soon as the buttons at the back are undone, I'm naked.

My veil's been off since the ceremony ended, the clips digging uncomfortably into my head, not that this skin tight corset is much fun in the breathing department. Still, the look on Ray's face as he catches me in it is enough to let me die from suffocation a very happy bride.

His jaw has dropped, and the smirk on my face has widened as I stand at the other end of the room to him. "Wow," he breathes, taking a step in my direction which I mimic slowly, crossing my arms to push up my breasts even more than the corset already has. "That looks tight, Mrs Palmer."

"It is," I whisper, just loud enough so I know he can hear me and I take another step forward, biting on my lip as I notice his pupils dilate as his eyes flick down, "any chance you'd like to help me out of it, Dr Palmer?" I ask, not quite sure where the sexy confidence I'm airing has come from, but liking it all the same.

And he doesn't answer, instead his hands are on me, running up and down the length of my sides clad in white fabric, "I want this on the floor," he says slowly, sexily, hungrily and I reply in the same tone.

"I think we need to even the playing field out first," and as I speak, I bring my hands to his shirt, pulling and ripping the buttons off in a frantic attempt to undress him. Then I knell on the white carpet, undoing the single button on his trousers and pulling down the zipper slowly. My fingers fumble at the waistband, pulling them down a little too eagerly.

And then he stands there in nothing but designer boxer briefs, I nip a quick kiss above the waistband of them before traveling back up his body to stand in front of him again, pink lip trapped between my teeth as I meet his eyes, "better?" he asks and I nod, "now can I get you out of that?"

"Not yet," I say, hands still planted firmly on his hips and I use that leverage to pull myself back down to kneel in front of him.

I tug his boxers down sharply, his erection springing free and before he can say another word, I take him into my mouth, sucking hard, enjoying the way his mouth drops with my bluntness. I gaze up at him to see him staring down at me, eyes dark with dilated pupils. Then he closes his eyes as I suck again, harder this time and take him further into my mouth, tongue flicking around the tip of him.

His hands move to cradle my head and I hear him swear into the lustful atmosphere the room allows, it's hedonistic. He flexes his hips to move himself deeper into my mouth, I swirl my tongue around him once more, pulling hard, thrusting him in and out with acquired precision. I bite my nails into his hips and I can tell he's close.

"Felicity," he pants, "I'm going to… I'm going to come."

Good.

He opens his eyes and looks down at me, absorbing me into deep brown orbs and I suck once more. His head is thrown back in ecstasy and I feel a great surge of pride that I brought him there as he comes loudly into my mouth.

I swallow and pull away, licking my lips and looking up at him as his eyes move back to mine, smiling. Then he tugs me up to meet my lips with his, groaning into the hot, sloppy kiss.

"I can taste myself on you," he says into the kiss, hands fisting themselves into my hair as mine stay on his hips, tugging his body into mine.

"Good isn't it?" I ask, referring to his taste, the one I can never get enough of.

He pulls away from me and I whimper before he says "You taste better."

My eyebrows shot up as he grips my waist, tossing me ungracefully onto the white sheets of the bed. Then he's crawling over me, a hand beneath me, unlooping the buttons on the back of my corset from their hold. When they're all undone, he pulls the fabric off of my body, leaving my heals and the garter on.

His hands start at my ankles, slowly massaging their way up as he smirks and I lick my lips in anticipation, God I love this game!

"Spread your legs," he whispers huskily, his hands now rubbing the flesh of my lower thighs. I do as he says, hooking my heels into the side of the bed, my legs as far away from one another as my joints will allow. Ray licks his lower lip, and I grow wetter and wetter by the passing second.

He draws a slow circular pattern at the top of the inside of my legs, so close to my sex yet so far, too far. "Now what am I going to do with you?" He asks, his softly spoken husky words penetrating deep in my soul and I moan, wriggling under his assault in a desperate attempt to get his hands were I want them, want him.

"Stop teasing," I tell him, though my voice betrays my command, the words a plea to him, "there's plenty of time for that later."

"All the time in the world," he corrects me, and he's right. We can do this every day for the rest of our lives, and I look forward to that desperately. But right now, I need a release.

"I swear to God Ray," I begin, sterner this time, "If you don't make me come right now, we'll have one hell of a boring honeymoon playing chess all day and night," That gets his attention and he stops the circles on my inner thigh, looking at me to see if I'm serious. I point between the two of us as I speak again, "If I don't come, you don't come."

Then my fingers clutch the sheets as I surrender control to him – mission accomplished.

His mouth starts at my neck, slowly heading south, his fingers heading north up my thighs and to the apex of them. I moan as he eases his digits into me, bucking up my hips to meet his hand and he groans back at me. "Your wish is my command, Mrs Palmer."

His tongue swirls around my navel before making their way to my sex, blowing on my clit and it's intense. My back arches as his tongue flicks my most sensitive spot, his fingers slowly pounding into me. "Oh God, Ray!" I plea.

Three fingers in me now, one hand flicking and massaging my nipples one at a time as my hands clench into the sheets, his tongue adding to the overwhelm of sensations on my clit, swirling as he blows on me.

"Mine," he manages to speak through his ministrations, his voice husky and slow, sexy in a deadly serious way. And with one final flick of his expert tongue, hitting that one spot he knows always get me, my orgasm hits spectacularly and loudly, going on and on as Ray laps up my juices.

Then I'm lying on my stomach, vaguely aware that he's not done with me yet. I rise to kneel on my knees and elbows, head just centimetres away from the pillows, totally at his mercy.

His hand trails down my spine, stopping briefly at my ass and he massages the flesh there. For a moment, I think that's where he's going to take me, the unfamiliar territory that is anal sex, and I can't work out if I feel nerves, fear or excitement over that thought, maybe all three, he leans down to my ear, hands still on my ass as he whispers, "one day, but not today," and I sigh in relief, a wedding night is not a night to try something that could go tits up (no pun intended) but the promise of one day is enough for me.

He places a kiss to behind me ear and his fingers head down through the apex of my thighs to my sex, into more familiar territory for us. Then he's inside me, his manhood pounding into me from behind, allowing him to hit _that_ spot.

He eases out then gently back in, once, twice, three times, again and again, leaving sloppy kisses on my exposed shoulder. I groan and he speeds up, filling me entirely and I know that somehow, this man was made for me, and only me.

"You okay baby?" he asks as I let out a cry, but not of pain, of ecstasy as he stops pounding into me, worried that he's hurt me.

My head falls back to his shoulder and I look into his lust filled eyes, that I'm more than certain match my own, "keep… going…" I manage to pant. And he's moving again, relentless and fast, full and unforgiving. And I'm helpless against his beautiful assault, in total awe of his control. And I can't think of a better place to be and I fall from the high that is my orgasm, feeling him fill me in the same way soon after.

And after he takes me once more in the traditional position, we fall side by side in the foreign bed, sweaty and panting and spent. He smiles down at me lazily as I curl into him, "I love you so much Felicity Palmer and I never want to let you go."

I kiss the nearest available part of him, which turns out to be his shoulder, whispering "then don't," before I drift off into an oblivious sleep, the last feeling being of Ray's lips on my forehead soothingly then his breathing slows too.


	8. Potential Broken Bones and Not Caring

**This story is nearing its end I'm afraid 'cause I've ran out of ideas, any ideas ****_you_**** have for the next chapter then let me know – if not then I'll start killing people off and I mean it. I only have one more chapter idea lined up so get thinking.**

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><p><span><strong><em>Potential Broken Bones and Not Caring.<em>**

_Ray's Point of View._

She's crushing my hand. I'm not even kidding, I think it's broken.

You know, a woman in labour is an extremely lethal, incredibly fierce, bone-crushing breed of human that you should do your best not to cross. I was not so lucky.

I find it amazing how – in this situation where she's trying to push a mini human out of her vagina – it's all the father's fault. And not to brag but I'm pretty sure she wasn't complaining on our wedding night when _we _made the little tadpole of a guy – or girl. Not me, _we_. We made the baby together, so why do I get all the blame?

"Felicity honey," I whisper down to her from my seat next to the hospital bed, "you're hurting my hand."

Then she turns to me, face covered in sweat and an evil, sinister look flashing across her eyes, "Oh, I'm sorry," she oozes sarcasm, "would you like to switch roles?"

I look down to where the doctor crouches between Felicity's open legs, urging her to breathe and push, "No I'm okay, you're doing such a good job yourself."

Then she begins to push again, harder this time and think I'm about to faint if it weren't for blunt pink nails biting into my palm. Then, while breathing out she pants, "This. Is. All. Your. Fault."

My not broken hand moves to smooth Felicity's sweaty hair out of her face, "I don't believe I heard you complaining at the time," I reply. And as I'm sure you can imagine, I shouldn't have said that.

"No, no, you're right," she speaks slowly, sinisterly, "this was a joint effort, so why don't we share the pain…" she screams in agony and her hand clamps on mine harder than ever before and I join in her moan of pain.

And not seconds later, Doctor Green lifts her head out from between my wife's legs and speaks up, "one last push Felicity, and your baby will be here."

And she's not lying, one long hard push, a cracking sound in my hand and a scream from Felicity's beautiful mouth later, the room erupts into silence as a piercing shriek of a cry echoes around the maternity ward and the umbilical cord is severed.

Doctor Green takes the blood covered ball of flesh to the corner of the room and I turn to Felicity, who seems to have forgotten all the previous pain she felt as she peers through the mass of people, trying to lay her eyes on our baby. A girl or boy baby? We don't know yet.

The female doctor returns not a minute later, a white bundle of towels in her arms as the tears stop. She smiles at Felicity, then at me and walks closer with our baby, "Congratulations, you have a baby girl."

She hands the baby girl to Felicity, wrapped up in white with only a chubby face showing. A beautifully pink chubby face showing between wraps of white, and I hear Felicity choke back a sob, but I can't look at her, I can't take my eyes off of the little girl in her arms. I lean in over my wife to get a closer image, kissing Felicity's cheek without tearing my eyes from our daughter.

And then she opens her eyes.

Beautiful big doe eyes looking back at me, deep brown in colour – my deep shade of brown in colour, the same shade as the tuft of hair on the top of her head. She looks around frantically, searching for something, anything familiar, but she doesn't find it, instead she locks eyes with her mother, her perfect mother who brought her into this life.

"Hello," Felicity chokes out, moving her hand to wipe a tear from her face before stroking our little girl's cheek, "I'm your mommy."

The girl does nothing but blink up at her, startled and confused and utterly adorable. Then Felicity turns to me, and I tear my eyes from our daughter to look at her, tears welling in her eyes. I wipe them away for her then kiss her forehead tenderly, because we brought this little girl into the world, together. "Do you want to hold her?"

I don't trust my words right now, knowing they'll come out in nothing but a choked squeal that will probably haunt our baby's dreams for the foreseeable future, so I nod instead, holding out my arms for Felicity to slip the bundle into.

And then she's in my arms, looking up at me with those big brown eyes that could melt the coldest of hearts, and that have captured my heart and soul for the rest of eternity. My little girl, my beautiful daughter,

I bring my thumb up to touch her tenderly, swiping her pink cheek in the most gentle of moves and she shifts under the blanket, a little pink hand poking out from under the wraps that swiftly grips a hold of my thumb, enclosing my digit in her entire fisted hand.

I'm not entirely sure when I started crying, but I only notice it when a tear falls on our adjoined hands. Felicity wipes the wetness off of my thumb, adding her hand to the pile. She begins to stroke our daughter's hand, still gripping tightly onto my thumb and we sit there for what feels like hours; Felicity leaning over me to watch the baby girl as she yawns and closes her eyes, three hands still holding together.

Five peaceful minutes of my little girl's sleep later I stop staring and turn to Felicity, "You were amazing."

She smiles and turns her head to mine, kissing me quickly on the lips before looking back to our daughter, "I was, wasn't I?" She whispers, careful not to wake the baby, "I'm sorry about your hand."

"It doesn't matter," I reply, dropping a kiss to Felicity's bare shoulder where the hospital gown has slid down, "she's all that matters now."

"I'm going to talk to Oliver," she speaks slowly, bringing her eyes back to mine, "Tell him that I'm happy to hack for him, but I'm doing it from home from now on, and I am never going into the field again."

All I do is nod, what else am I supposed to say? Thank God, I hate you working for the Arrow, and I suppose just hacking from home is better than nothing? I'm not that selfish, I wouldn't ask her to not hack for him, it gives her a purpose, asking her to stop would be asking her to not be the woman I fell in love with.

And so I whisper, "we need a name for her."

"I don't care," she replies as our little girl's hand drops its grip on my thumb and Felicity settles back into the bed, I twist and place my daughter back into her mother's arms and Felicity shuffles to the side, letting me sit beside her on the bed.

"What do you mean? Of course you care," I scoff, flexing my hand and feeling a shooting pain rip up it.

"Nope, I don't care. Name her whatever you want Ray, I don't care as long as we get to keep her."

I laugh quietly, turning to kiss Felicity's cheek and stretch my arm around her, hugging her to my side, "Of course we get to keep her, I don't think they'll take her off of us for poor name choosing."

"I honestly don't care Ray, I don't," she says, watching our sleeping nameless daughter, "Whatever you want to call her is fine by me, I don't mind. I just want to live every day of the rest of my life for her."

And naturally, as a scientist, I want to test this theory of not minding. So I say, clear as day "Frederick."

She turns to me, "What?"

I meet her eyes, not backing down despite her disbelief, "Let's call her Frederick."

Felicity scoffs, "You want to call our _daughter _Frederick?"

"Yeah," I smile, "Let's push the barrier of typically male names for baby girls! You know like Dannie, Toni… Let's call her Frederick. Or would Frederina work better?"

She scoffs once more, her voice hitting a higher octave than I thought possible, "You want to call our daughter _Frederina?"_

"Don't you like that?" I ask, faking disbelief, "You said whatever I wanted, you didn't care."

I can tell that she doesn't realise I'm joking by the way she panics as she replies to me annoyed, "I didn't expect you to call her Frederina!" She quietly shrieks, "I thought you'd chose something fitting and unique and beautiful, like Serenity, or Monroe, Cassandra, Bethany or I don't know – Anastasia? Not Frederina, derived from Frederick!"

Then I have it, as soon as she said it I knew it was right, "No wait, you had it there," I say shortly, stopping Felicity mid-rant.

"What? I had it? Which one? I can't even remember the names I said!"

"Cassandra," I whisper, looking at the bundle of flesh in my loving wife's arms, but I'm not done teasing yet, so I continue bluntly, "Cassandra Frederina Palmer."

"Her middle name will not be Frederina, it will be Megan like mine," Felicity replies without hesitation, sure in her assault and I smile.

"Okay, Cassandra Megan Palmer."

My wife matches my smile, turning to the baby in her arms, "Cassandra? She does look like a Cassandra doesn't she." And it's not a question, it's a statement, she _does_ look like a Cassandra. "I remember reading about that name in my baby name book, it's of Greek origin. Meaning to shine I think."

"She certainly does shine, doesn't she?" I ask no one in particular, watching tiny eyelids flutter and deep brown eyes grace the world again.

"Yes she does," Felicity replies, stroking the baby's cheek, "Our Cassandra." And as if she were replying to her name, she tilts her head slightly to suck on Felicity's deft finger.

"Cassie for short," I mumble.

"Cassie Palmer," Felicity breathes, giggling as Cassandra blinks up at us.

I smile, "I love it."

"I love you," Felicity replies, turning back to me. I kiss her lips quickly, barely taking my eyes off of my little Cassie. "And I really am sorry about your hand, it looks sore."

I try to flex it from where it lays on Felicity's shoulder but end up moaning in pain, "I think you broke it."

"Yeah I think I might have," she says, kissing it and turning back to Cassandra.

I lean over to hover above Cassie, dropping a gentle kiss to her forehead, "Did you hear that Cassie? That was your mother, get used to the sound of her voice 'cause she's a worrier, she won't leave your side for at least thirteen years."

Felicity giggles and leans in next to me, "Yeah and you better get used to your daddy's face 'cause he'll be on every single one of your dates until you're thirty."

"Dates?" I question, pulling away from Cassandra to look at Felicity seriously, "She's not dating. Ever."

All Felicity does is kiss me once more before rocking Cassandra back to sleep, pulling her closer into her chest and I watch them as Felicity's eyes close too.

My two girls.


	9. Plans for Shrinking Down to Vigilantism

**Okay so I wanted to bring the Atom into this (since it's such an important part of the character) without actually bringing in the Atom. I think making Ray Atom would ruin this fanfiction but not bringing him in wouldn't be accurate.**

**That didn't make sense did it? Oops.**

**You'll understand soon, so this could be a total flop and I'm taking a real risk here so be honest (only if your honesty is nice, I'm sensitive!)**

**A big thanks to my two very dedicated reviewers 'AnnHarrisForever' and 'Sheena Is A Punk Rocker' the two of you always leave me wanting to write a new chapter, so thank you for your reviews, and please let me know if you have any suggestions of new chapters I can do – I'm running out of ideas.**

**Sorry that was so long… continue reading.**

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><p><span><strong><em>Plans For Shrinking Down to Vigilantism.<em>**

Felicity's Point of View.

_Being thrown to the floor by the doll maker, taking a bullet to the shoulder, being caught in a massive explosion – the three most painful experiences of my life. But none of them compare to child birth._

_The Count threatening me with Vertigo, Slade's sword at my neck, several renditions of a gun pointed at my head – the three most terrifying experiences of my life. But none of the compare to motherhood._

_When Oliver went out for his final battle with Slade, when Diggle went undercover in a Russian prison, Roy's first mission out – the three most worrying experiences of my life. But none of them compare to this:_

It's Friday night, quarter past nine and I've only just managed to get two week old Cassandra to sleep in her dark brown wooden bassinet in her white walled room. I walk through the penthouse to the kitchen where Ray is waiting for me, handing me a glass of wine as I drop the baby monitor onto the counter and sit opposite him at the island counter.

"She asleep?" He asks, looking as rough as I feel.

I nod in response, taking a long hard sip of the expensive red wine in my glass, "You're getting her when she wakes up," I order, slumping down in my seat, thoroughly exhausted, "though if you're planning on going back to work on Monday, I guess I'll have to get used to doing it alone."

"I told you that I'd stay at home, work from the home office and you could go back in," he retorts, yawning.

I snort a laugh, "You're the CEO, if you're not there, there's no point me going in. I told you it's fine, I'll work from home."

He nods and we sit in silence for a while, basking in the lack of tears and diapers of this moment. And then, in my maternal mind, I remember that Ray had his weekly catch-up with the office today.

"Did you hear from work today?" I ask, knowing full well that he was calling there as I went off for my bath earlier, leaving him in charge of Cassie.

"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that actually," he says slowly, sipping from his glass of red liquid, "There's been a breakthrough with one of the non-lethal weapon prototypes."

He looks nervous, I think he looks nervous anyway, I'm too exhausted to wonder if it's true so instead I question, "which one?"

"The one that can miniaturize things while maintaining a stabilised mass that can be transferred within difference parts of the object to uphold a purpose, you remember working on the tech for that one?" He asks, and I think I see excitement flash across his face.

"And what's the breakthrough? It works?" I ask teasingly, since most of Ray's ambitious physics exploits haven't ended too promising.

"That it works on humans," he corrects, barely containing an excitement I can now blatantly see, "And the mass distribution works amazingly so that if you were to be miniaturised, you could throw a punch with literally all of your weight, and possibly more, Applied Sciences is working overtime trying to find a way to put the tech into a person so that the original machine isn't required while working on applying additional mass so you could hit far above your capabilities at regular size."

"Wait so this technology could be transferred_ into_ a person? And they'd be able to shrink and distribute mass at will?" I ask, trying to keep up in my sleep-deprived state.

"Pretty much yeah," he replies, putting down his glass to lean over the counter to me, "but the mass distribution is only able to function at subatomic size. But the powers themselves should be able to be absorbed into a person, and then they'd have these abilities for life. Applied Science sees no lethal side effects and the outcome could be extraordinary."

Then my mind catches up with Ray's and everything becomes just a little bit clearer, "Please tell me you're not thinking of using this technology on yourself," I demand, placing my glass so hard on the table that some slashes over the side.

"Well…" Ray begins, but I'm not done yet.

"And what? CEO by day, teeny tiny vigilante by night? 'Cause I assume that is what you'd want to use the technology for – vigilantism. And then you just play daddy to our little girl in between? You can't do it all Ray, something would have to give, and it's sure as hell not going to be your duty to our daughter, nor the job that keeps a roof over our heads."

I don't realise I'm standing until Ray rises from his seat also, his tone calm where mine was hectic, "Felicity," he treads carefully, "All I've wanted since I became the CEO of Queen Consolidated was to save this city, so our daughter can roam the streets one day knowing she'll be perfectly safe. But I'm kidding myself if I think that I can do that by sitting in my office, it's not helping, it's never helped."

"It _is_ helping," I plead, "It _is_ making a difference, _you_ are making a difference."

"Not enough," he replies, and I see the pain in his eyes and part of me knows it makes sense, as much as we try QC's vision of Star City is still just a dream, the only good work being done effectively is by team Arrow, and with me out of the works and more and more bad guys creeping out of the woodwork, Oliver is biting off more than he can chew. "The Arrow needs all the help he can get, and I want to help him as a subatomic particle sized man who can transfer his mass density."

Well when he puts it like that – no. No, I won't let him, I've witnessed first-hand the dangers that life brings. And Oliver hasn't been able to have a life outside of the Arrow, this will tear our family apart, but only if I let it. I change tactics, since reasoning hasn't worked so far, maybe mocking will help.

"And what are you going to call yourself? Subatomic man?"

He smiles slightly and I realise he's already thought of a name, "I was thinking Atom."

I scoff, "The Arrow and the Atom, working together to save Starling City from itself," I scoff once more for good measure, "I'm not buying it, why do you want to be a vigilante all of a sudden, you were against it last time I checked."

"We had a daughter, Felicity, that's what changed. And she's not safe in this city, not now maybe not ever," he pleas, brown eyes raking over my hostile stance, arms crossed over my still enlarged belly.

"Then we'll move," I bargain, "Pack everything up and move someplace safe, somewhere where there is no need for vigilantism. We'll go to England, they're nice right?"

"This is our home, our city," he retorts, "and I want to save it."

My arms drop to my sides, "I don't want you to save it. I want you here, at home with me and your daughter, safe."

Then he hits an all-time low, "You realise that you're a vigilante, right? You work behind the law to save this city, you just don't have a costume like the rest of your team."

I know he doesn't mean it to hurt me, but it does hurt. "Okay, so you're tiny, what then? What do you do? You don't even know how to fight."

"I'll learn."

I scoff for what feels like the hundredth time tonight and my arms fold over my belly once more, "You will literally be stepped on."

"I'm not talking about going up against bad guys face to face. But what if Oliver needs intelligence? I can be a fly on the wall, drawing absolutely no attention to myself as I sneak in. And with this technology I can shrink other people to the same size, they'll be so confused and unknowing that they'll be easy pickings."

"Yeah, they'll be really easy pickings. So then you'll kill them, right?" I test, knowing full well that the man I married is not a murderer.

"No, I won't. But will you just think of all the possibilities?" He all but begs.

"I am thinking of the possibilities, the possibility that you could die. You could actually get yourself killed Ray, and then I'd have to raise our daughter all on my own. And when she asks where her daddy is I'll have to be the one to tell her that her daddy was a subatomic particle sized moron who got himself killed!"

"Just think it over?"

"No," I tell him firmly, tears streaming down my face, "If I wanted to watch my husband go out to his potential death every night, then I would have married Oliver, or Barry for that matter."

"Barry?" He questions. Shit, I haven't told him about that one.

"The Flash," I brush under the carpet, speaking as if he should know.

His eyes widen, "You've dated the Flash? As well as the Arrow."

I want to answer him that no, we didn't actually _date_ date, we had a kiss and a dance and a connection, but we weren't in the right place or time, nor have we ever been, but I hold back, stick to my guns and answer differently.

"Is that really important right now?" I scream, forgetting about the baby in the other room, "The point is that I couldn't stand to lose you, and that's what will happen if you do this, I will lose you, our little girl will lose you, screw the city, what about us?"

"I'm doing this for you," he bargains slowly, his hand rising to wipe away my tears but I swat it away before he can touch me, "I'm doing this for our daughter."

"No, you're doing this for your ego."

He sighs, "What do you want me to do then, Felicity? This technology needs to be put to good use."

"Then let someone else be the Atom," I whisper pleadingly, swiping my own tears away, "Give this burden to someone else."

"Like who?" He whispers, "Who can I trust with this?"

I think for a moment, because there is no way in hell Ray Palmer is going to be a fricking vigilante, not while he has a child with me anyway. And I can tell that he's given up for now, but I wonder if this'll be forgotten, whether this will one day be the ruin of us, if one day this will turn around and bite me on my ass.

"Just do it," I whisper, with a small shake of my head, "If you really want to do this, then do it, I'm not going to stop you."

Then he's the other side of the counter, wiping away my tears and holding my face when they're gone. I grip onto his wrists and look up to his eyes, filled with sadness as I'm sure mine are, "Not if this is going to break you, not if you don't want this. I just want to help Felicity, and since Cassie came into our lives, I'm not sure if I've actually been doing any good. I will find someone else to be the Atom. I will do anything for you."

"I don't want you to not do this because of me," I whimper back to him, lips puckering as tears fall again, "but I don't think I could cope with the worry, and if something did happen to you… it doesn't bare to think about."

He kissed my forehead quickly before crouching so his eyes are level with mine, "I couldn't begin to contemplate what this would do to you, I'm sorry, I should've taken you into consideration and I didn't think to. It doesn't matter, nothing else matters except you and Cassandra, and I will stay at home every day for the rest of my life if that is what you want."

"That's not what I want," I begin, snorting back tears, "You would get under my feet, I can barely stand to be in the same room as you for an hour, I don't know how I'd feel for the rest of my life."

My attempt at humour is short lived in laughs but worth it to clear the air, to let Ray know that there are no hard feelings here. I talk again, more serious this time, "I just want you safe, Ray."

He nods, "Likewise, so do me a favour?"

"Anything."

He takes a deep breath, "I know you said that you wouldn't but I need you to promise me that you'll do no more field work for the Arrow. And I get that hacking for him is a part of you, and that's fine, but I want you to do that from home, no more nights at the Foundry. Okay?"

"Okay," I reply, because that's the least I can do.

"Promise?" He asks.

"Promise," I answer, "But I have an idea for that little device of yours, that doesn't involve another vigilante but improving the ones we've got."

He smiles, "You've got that ingenious idea look in your eyes, I love that look."

"Like you said, a small enemy is a confused enemy. If we could turn the device into some sort of hand gun, when the Arrow faces life long enemies like Slade and Malcom Merlyn that can't be contained in a prison, we can shrink them down and stick them in glass bottles," then I see the look on Ray's face and realise how bonkers that sounds, "too far?"

"Just a little bit," he replies, "but you're right about it being a gun, but it'll have to be reversible. The Arrow could just shrink an enemy then make them big again once they're in police custody. What do you think?"

"Seems a little odd, don't you think?" I retort, "Maybe we should just make it into a hand held device and let Oliver use it as he pleases."

"Yeah," Ray replied slowly, "Good plan."

Then the piercing sound of a shrill cry echoing through the baby monitor stop us from continuing our conversation and I'm quick to shout, "Your turn!" to Ray and go back to sipping my wine at the counter. He stalks off in the direction of the nursery and soon I hear him cooing over the baby monitor, singing off key the only lullaby he knows and soon the crying stops.

Yeah, we're going to be alright.

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><p><strong>Did that work?<strong>


	10. I'll See You on the Other Side

**I go back to college tomorrow… **

**And it pains me to type this but this will be the last chapter of this fanfiction since I'm going back to a hell of a lot of coursework and so far this story has consumed me, both in time and mind.**

**It's a long one, I hope that makes up for it.**

**This one is all about the flashbacks. I've tried to incorporate as many ideas as I've been given by 'Sheena is a Punk Rocker'**

**So here it is, the final chapter – filled with a mismatch of fluff and smut and umm... tragedy… sorry.**

**And please don't hate me.**

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><p><span><strong><em>I'll See You on the Other Side.<em>**

_Felicity's Point of View._

He found me. He knows I work for the Arrow. He hates the Arrow. He wants to hurt him. And my death – that will hurt him.

My death. It's coming. I can feel it coming. Soon.

_Ray._

What will he do without me? With a seven year old daughter who needs me to read a bedtime story every night. And a four year old boy who needs me to kiss away his pain. Me, not anyone else. Me, his mommy.

And his mommy won't be there for him anymore. Not when this man – this machine – takes me from him, from them. My children. My husband. My family.

I hope Ray finds love again, I hope he finds someone who will love him as much as I did, as much as I always will – even in my death. I hope he doesn't cry, I don't want him to cry over me, I don't want him to miss me, I'll always be with him. And he'll have to be there for our children, he'll have to be all that he already was and more, he'll have to be both mother and father. At least until he finds them a new mommy – and I hope that he does. I hope he finds happiness.

My children, Cassandra and Brandon. My beautiful, beautiful children. I wish that they didn't have to loose me, their mother, but I will always be with them, looking over them, I will be there for every one of their biggest moments. Their first day of high school, their first job, when the love of their lives ask them out for that very first date.

I remember when Ray asked me, I will always remember when Ray asked me.

_"__Miss Smoak?" I hear my boss' voice call to me through the glass wall of my office – my office of five long months._

_"__Yes, Dr Palmer?" I reply as he enters the room, rising to stand from my glass desk and I move around it to face him, leaning to the side and cocking my head._

_"__I told you to call me Ray," He says, his voice nervous in a way I've never heard it before._

_I strangle out a small laugh, "and I told you to call me Felicity, now was there something you needed, _Ray?"_ I ask, putting as much emphasis on his one syllable name as I possibly can._

_He smiles and the sight somehow warms the room, for some reason I feel so much happier knowing that I brought that smile out of him, some twisted sense of pride surging through me as I stand there watching him._

_"__Yes there was actually, _Felicity_," he says, still smiling as I reciprocate, "I need you to sit in on the Applied Sciences meeting with me Monday afternoon, they're proposing a new mainframe and I could really do with your expertise."_

_I nod, "That's fine, the two o'clock meeting?"_

_"__Yes," he replies, walking towards me and I only then see the stack of papers in his hands, he plonks them down on my desk next to where I lean against it and I catch his scent, a musky yet clean smell that I begin to find intoxicating. _

_And then he leans away from me, brown eyes gleaming and I can't believe I got distracted by the way he smells. If anything's distracting it's his eyes, so deep and powerful yet filled with so much understanding and compassion, and they always seem to light up when he talks about his work, something that Oliver's never did._

_Oliver – that was over before it had really begun wasn't it? And now after all this time, and getting him out of my system on our half a date, I don't feel the butterflies, I don't get jelly legs and honestly, his chest doesn't even impress me anymore._

_And does Oliver even know _how_ to smile? I seriously wonder sometimes, at least Ray lets you know how he feels – wait, did I just compare the two? Surely not._

_"__You'll want to read those papers before the meeting, get up to date with the designs they've got so far," Ray's voice pulls me into the present, "I'm sure you'd be able to pick it up but they're there if you want them."_

_"__Thanks Ray," I reply sincerely, "I'll have a look."_

_"__Good," he hesitates, fisting his hands into his pockets nervously._

_I smile warmly at him, meeting his eyes and I have to grip the edge of my desk for support, gosh his eyes – have a mentioned them? Yeah? Oh. Well, they're still pretty breath taking, especially with the nervous edge to their deep brown Ray is sporting now. _

_He's heading to leave, but hesitates in his backwards step to the door, he wants to ask me something, and I don't know what it is, but I want to know. And the wait is putting my stomach in a flutter._

_"__Felicity," he speaks softly, the way he says my name making my heart pound hard against my chest. What is happening to me? Has he always made me feel like this? I remember the first time I saw him, speaking my language in the store, casual clothing and still those breath taking eyes. I think I did feel this, that's why I resisted him, this job, because I thought that Oliver was for me. Boy was I wrong._

_I breathe out heavily, my knees trying to give out on me as he looks at me with that smoulder, "What is it Ray?"_

_I see him take in a deep breath, shake away his nerves and a smirk registers across his face before he asks, clear as day and as confident as I always knew he was, "Would you like to go out to dinner tomorrow night?"_

_Tomorrow night? Friday night, I have to be at the Foundry. But we don't have much on, just a patrol. I could go out. I could go out with Ray. But should I? Isn't it too soon after Oliver? _

_But then I look over to him and unlike when Oliver asked me out to dinner, I know Ray means a date, because I always know where I stand with him, and it's refreshing. Maybe I should take the plunge, risk the fall, what's the worst that could happen?_

_"__I'd love to go out to dinner with you."_

I don't regret it, I want Ray to know that, I don't regret anything with him. Not one single fight, not one kiss, not one breath, moment – nothing, I regret nothing. Nothing except staying with team Arrow, I should have gave it up the moment I got serious with Ray, or at least when we had Cassie, I shouldn't have stayed with the team, it was dangerous, reckless, stupid. But would I have stayed true to myself if I had given it up? No, probably not.

But Ray was always so good for me. He supported me, made sure that I was doing what I wanted to be doing, and gave me opportunities within my field. He made me secure, reassured me in every moment. And he pushed me beyond my limits, not only in work but in life in general too, in pushed my boundaries, and at times that got too intense, but in others it was too good for me to care.

_It's that meeting with Applied Science, the one Ray asked me to join him in. We're sat side by side at the boardroom table, three middle aged men sit opposite us, talking hurriedly in a tongue that I understand perfectly – geek._

_Ray and I have spent the whole weekend together. After our talk Saturday morning about my bullet hole wound we spent the rest of the day in bed, got take out that night and spent Sunday in bed too, so when on Sunday night we spoke about how we would progress and Ray asked if he could call me his girlfriend, and I said yes, we were both on cloud nine, and he went home Sunday night. _

_But he's having his fun now._

_His hand is drawing a circular pattern on my kneecap, so softly that I could barely tell it was there, I thought it was innocent. But now it travels up slowly, the same spiralling pattern being etched onto my skin as he travels upwards. _

_I bite the inside of my lip as I stiffen, twisting to get some friction between my legs and I see Ray smirk - cocky bastard, and I see visions of me sat on my glass desk, skirt hitched up on my hips as my heels dig into Ray's ass. _

_I should stop this, this is unprofessional, there are employees sat in the same room as us, I really should stop this. But God, I like where this is going._

_Ray leans over to me, as if to whisper something about the product innocently, but instead he speaks in a deep husky tone sultry words, "You look a little tense there Miss Smoak, want me to relieve some of that pressure?"_

_And I can't reply, my brain has fried, but I open my legs beneath the desk as Ray's expert fingers slide over my wet panties. Lust ripples through my body shamelessly as his finger knocks my clit, circling around and around._

_My toes curl in my shoes and I draw blood from my lip, knowing that if I release it, I'll moan and that won't be good for anyone here to hear. Ray's fingers quickly slip my lace underwear to the side and two fingers enter my wet folds. _

_I push forward into them, urging him on and he rewards my abruptness with the curling on his digits, finding _that _spot, his new favourite spot, my favourite spot. Then he's thrusting, in and out, forwards and back, and his thumb comes to work on my clit._

_I turn to face him, his face expressionless and blank, completely blank, like nothing was happening. And me? I'm struggling to breathe._

_But then he withdraws, standing and placing his hand in his pants pocket, my mind blank and unknowing of what's going on around me. He shakes the three men with his clean hand, and walks them out of the room, obviously done with their presentation and he promises to give them an answer soon. _

_I just want him to finish what he started, leaving a girl whimpering is just plain rude._

_And I get what I want, because before I know it I'm running into the private bathroom on my floor with him. And Ray's taking me hard and fast and sloppy in his urgency against the sink, hitting every spot I love because he already knows me that well._

That's the moment I realised that we could truly be something, something real, something pure, something great. And although our time was cut short, I think we did just that.

We had two beautiful children together, and although Cassandra wasn't exactly planned, I don't regret her, and as much as Brandon cried in his first few weeks, as tired as we got, I wouldn't change a thing.

I wish more than anything that I could be there for their greatest moments, be there for their best days, their worst, comfort them when they experience their first disappointment, first heartbreak, every tear and tantrum.

And the smiles, God I'll miss their smiles and every one they'll ever have. For their happiest times, first loves, first 'I love you', their weddings, their own children that they will love as much as I love them. I'll miss it all, all of it, but I'll be there, in spirit, but it's not the same, it will never be the same. They will never be the same.

_It's another fight; we've had quite a few recently. They are never anything serious, just little niggling things that play on our minds day and night until one of us explodes, and one of us always explodes. But it's healthy, we're a relatively new couple, trying to figure out how we fit together, fit into this world. And it doesn't help that we work together by day. _

_"__Where do you go?" Ray asks me, voice strained and angry, yet there is no hostility there, no poison or bitterness, it's a healthy rage, "I want to believe that you're ringing your mother, I honestly do, but I can't when it's almost every evening for hours that you disappear off of the face of the earth for."_

_What should I say? I'm helping the Arrow? I can't tell him that, not yet, we haven't been together long enough for me to disclose that information, I just can't, not yet. So I take the wimps option._

_"__Why do you need to know?" I demand, arms folded to mimic him. We're stood in my office, voices muffled by the closed glass door._

_He sighs and guilt overcomes me, I should tell him, but I just can't, the words won't physically leave my mouth, "I just need to know Felicity, are you in some sort of trouble?"_

_Am I? Possibly, the Arrow is always getting into some sort of trouble, one way or another, and try as I might I always get roped into it, but the kind of trouble he's talking about, no I'm not. "No," I tell him calmly, "I'm not."_

_"__Then what is it? Where do you go?" He's begging now, pleading even, he cares enough to notice my absence, he cares enough to ask why, I care enough to not get him involved. _

_"__I can't tell you, I want to, but I can't," I tell him, taking a step forward towards him, "one day I will, I promise."_

_His resolve softens slightly and his eyes droop in a tired fashion, tired of our fight I'd imagine. "I have a theory, one I don't like, one that puts you in some serious danger," he tells me slowly, and he knows, I know that he knows. That time I got took in for questioning by Lance about the Arrow would be on my record, he could easily find out that the Arrow killed to save me with a simple type of my name into google, he knows, but he won't say it either, "I just want to know that you're okay, that you're safe."_

_It's gentlemanly really, sweet and kind, he just wants to know that I'm okay, and I am – sort of. But my defences for Oliver are still there, still at the forefront of my mind, and I don't calm down like he does, "Why do you need to know so desperately?" I question, shouting the words at him, walls up around me._

_I see his fight returning, and he shouts in the same tone back at me, and without hesitation, "Because I love you!" and once he says the words, he calms down again, me lost for words, so he repeats, "because I love you, Felicity."_

_I don't hesitate to reply, "If you love me, then you won't ask."_

_He nods, defeated, and backs towards the door, muttering "okay" with a shrug and I realise that I didn't say what he wanted to hear, why didn't I say it? He's halfway across the floor now, nearly at the elevator, and I run after him, heals clipping on the marble floor._

_He's just pushed the 'down' button when I reach him, grabbing his arm and turning him towards me, crashing my pink lips against his. I'm the one to pull away, strutting back to my office leaving him speechless and before I round the corner away from him, I turn to look back at him._

_"__Oh and I love you too, just in case you were wondering," and I carry on walking._

And I do love him, I love him, I love him, I love him, so so much, gosh I love him. I loved our life together, our ups our downs, our children, I love everything we've achieved and everything we've lost, I love him, I've always loved him, I'll always love him. My Ray.

I am Felicity Megan Palmer, I am married to Doctor Ray Palmer, he's a physicist, a good one. I'm a hacker, a good one. We have two children, Cassandra and Brandon Palmer. I work with the Arrow. I _worked_ with the Arrow. I _had_ two children. I _was_ a hacker. I _used to be_ married to Ray.

But I am Felicity Megan Palmer.

And there's a sword in my side. Literally.

And Ra's al Ghul stands over me.

And as I close my eyes, I see Ray's beautiful brown eyes, his smile. I see our children, playing happily, obliviously. And as I take my last breath, I don't hesitate to whisper those three simple words that I wish I could tell Ray for the rest of eternity; "I love you."

I guess I'll see him on the other side.

_May we meet again._

* * *

><p><strong>Don't hate me.<strong>


	11. Alt Ending: A Flash of Good Fortune

_A/N: I've had a lot of people asking me for an alternative ending for those who didn't want Felicity to die. And so after hearing it for the sixth time, I felt bad for being a murderer (in the writing sense, I haven't been on a killing spree... recently) and so I started typing again._

_I know it's been a while so I'm sorry if you've forgotten what has happened but basically Ra's Al Ghul 'killed' Felicity._

_If you thought her dying was a good ending, do not read on. But if you begged for an alternative ending... I might just be able to make that happen..._

_I have the power!_

* * *

><p><em>Felicity's Point of View (I'm back bitches!)<em>

I am Felicity Megan Palmer.

And there's a sword in my side. Literally.

And why am I not dead yet?

And Ra's al Ghul stands over me.

But then his face twists – distorts – as if only ever a fragment of my own imagination. But he had been there, I was sure of it, I have warm blood gushing from my split side to prove it.

But he's not stood over me anymore.

Harsh bitter features distort, spiral into something softer – something familiar. Sharp and piercing grey eyes fade into something warmer, a deep and absorbing brown replaces them and I cling to the sight of them. The sight of him.

Why am I not dead? I thought I had taken my last breath – sure of it in fact. Where am I now?

White. I see white. Everywhere. Is this heaven? It can't be, the clean bleach smell that consumes me tells me that this is far from heaven, this is hell – this is a hospital. How did I get here? How did I not die?

I hear fragments of sentences, random words like "fatal and "serious" that slowly merge into more reassuring sounds like "stable" and "safe" and soon I begin to believe it. I'm safe. How did I get to be safe? I should be dead. I was dying – I'm sure of it.

I hear my name – spoken in several different tones by several different voices, exasperation, urgency, even hints of begging, pleading me to wake up, to come back to them. And I will. I will come back to them. To him. Ray. I will.

Then the black reigns over once more.

It could be minutes, or hours, even days when I see white light from beneath my eyelids once more, and this time I hear more clearly.

"But she's stable?" That's Ray, I could recognise his voice half dead – and I image that's what I am.

"Yes, we believe so," it's a female voice, chipper and sickly sweet and I guess that she's my nurse, I've heard her voice before, vaguely as she whispered to me, cooing me back to the land of the living.

"You _believe _so?" Another voice interjects – Oliver.

The woman clears her throat, "I don't want to give you false hope," she says quietly.

"So you don't think she's going to make it?" It's Oliver again, he's getting agitated, I can hear it in his voice, "You can't even tell us if she's stable!"

"Oliver!" Someone scolds, Digg I think.

Then I drift away from them.

The next time I hear something, I also feel a hand in mine, warm and large and familiar – Ray. He's whispering softly, his breath warm on my neck, "…and the kids are with Lyla and Digg, I didn't think you'd want them to see you like this, I mean no offense honey but you look like a mess. Not your finest moment there, bleeding out on the sidewalk. I didn't think you were going to make it, Oliver and I got to you just in time, just as you said 'I love you' which I hope was to me or we've got some issues we need to work out when you wake up. I have no idea how he saved you, I really don't, and even the doctors can't work it out.

"We're lucky you befriended Barry Allen, nice kid he is, when we realised you were missing he went out searching with us – us being me, Oliver, Laurel, Digg and Roy – he got to you just after Oliver brought you a few minutes, got you to the hospital in a flash, literally. I was useless, I did nothing. Oliver brought you time, Barry didn't waste it, I just cried, and cried and cried, oh and cried some more…"

I try to hold on, desperately try, but I don't succeed, and I drift back off into oblivion.

The next time I wake up, my eyes come with my ears. "Felicity?" Barry calls to me, he's standing over my bed, tall and worried as ever, "Oh my God Felicity, Ray literally just left for a coffee run, he's going to be pissed he missed this!" As he talked he moved to press the button that calls the nurse in, and soon my room is full of people.

Nurses: three of them. Barry, Digg, Oliver, Roy, Caitlin, Cisco, even Iris and Eddie, but he's not there.

"Ray," I say the name as soon as he bursts in through the open door, a pathway clearing straight away for him.

He cries. I cry. Everyone else leaves.

I'm in hospital for another month. I'll always be weak. I can't have any more children. I have a wicked cool scar. But I have Ray. And our children (I honestly don't think I could cope with anymore of the little brainiacs!) And I have amazing friends, vigilantes or not.

Oliver and Roy keep the streets of Starling City safe from any terrorist attacks, or organised crime groups, with the help of Diggle of course.

Barry saves the people of Central city in a flash.

Lyla gave up her job with Argus to take full time care Sara and babysits mine and Ray's two during the day, she hates it 'cause they're smarter than her.

Ray fights petty crime in Starling City as the Atom – I finally let him, and the miniaturising thing did come in helpful at keeping him alive.

And me? I'm just an IT girl, working with Ray by day and running the behind the scenes for the Arrow, Arsenal and Atom by night. And a mommy and wife all the time.

Ra's al Ghul is dead. My boys made sure of that.

But if someone were to ask me that given the choice, would I change anything that I've done or been through. I would tell them no.

Without hesitation.

* * *

><p><em>Now this IS the END of the road. I hope you have all enjoyed and think I did the alternative ending proud.<em>

_Thank you for all of your support whether you've reviewed or only read and continued reading, it means so much._

_Please leave a review or Private Message me, eithers fine, or just read. (But reviews are nice...*wink wink nudge nudge*)_

_Thank you again everyone x_

_And OMG what did you think of the mid-season finale?!_


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